How could you make appeal to the future when not a trace of you, not even an anonymous word scribbled on a piece of paper, could physically survive?

To hang on from day to day and from week to week, spinning out a present that had no future, seemed an unconquerable instinct, just as one's lungs will always draw the next breath so long as there is air available.

Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood.

By using stale metaphors, similes and idioms, you save much mental effort, at the cost of leaving your meaning vague, not only for your reader but for yourself.

Every life viewed from the inside is a series of defeats.

Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past.

Those who 'abjure' violence can do so only because others are committing violence on their behalf.